Page 78 of Beloved Enemy
A wave of hopelessness crashed over her, draining what little strength she had left. She released him completely, her arms dropping uselessly to her sides. The fight had left her. There was nothing more she could say. Wearily, she stepped back, the walls of the chamber feeling closer, suffocating. She returned to the spot beneath the window and slid down the wall, sinking into the same pit of despair where he’d found her.
Reid’s disgust was palpable as he turned away, his face twisted in contempt. He strode toward the door, each step heavy with finality.
"You’re blinded, Reid," she whispered, her voice hoarse. Her eyes followed his retreating figure, knowing her words would fall on deaf ears. "Please, be careful. You’ve locked up the wrong person."
Without a glance back, he stormed out.
***
Reid took the stairs straight down to the ground floor, his boots striking the stone steps with an audible force that mirrored the turbulence inside him. He exited the tower inside the bailey, his jaw clenched, and his fists balled at his sides.
Charlotte’s words echoed in his mind.
He had defended Charlotte, vouched for her. Now, she’d gone and accused his own flesh and blood of treachery. The sting of it was still fresh. But what gnawed at him more was that he couldn’t completely dismiss her. His instincts were screaming in different directions—one to believe in his sister, the other to confront the possibility of something darker lurking beneath the surface.
Fiona and Lachlan—could it be possible?
No. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
“Tavish!” He roared, scanning the yard as he strode toward the stables, not seeing his captain anywhere.
Hewantedto believe Charlotte—something in her eyes, in her desperate grip on him, had stirred something raw in him. But the moment she had cast suspicion on Fiona, any trace of trust had been extinguished, leaving behind only anger and a burning sense of betrayal. Hefeltlike a fool. How could he have ever defended her?
Tavish approached from the gatehouse as Reid crossed the yard. Seumas and Fergus followed close behind the Nicholson captain. Reid’s jaw tightened at the sight of them.
“I called for Tavish,nae ye,” he snapped, his voice sharp with barely suppressed anger. “Get gone.”
If the sting of his words fazed them, Reid didn’t care. Right now, his patience was as fragile as glass, and every familiarface only served to deepen the well of doubt gnawing at him. In this moment, the only person whose loyalty he trusted unconditionally was Tavish. Everyone else was a potential threat—tainted by the suspicions introduced by Charlotte.
“Christ, ye’re wound up tighter than a bowstring, Reid,” Tavish remarked when Seumas and Fergus had left.
Reid began walking, but not now to the stables as he’d intended, but outside the gate, away from any chance of listening ears. Without a word, Tavish fell into step beside him.
With a sour tone that reflected his mood, Reid briefly sketched what Charlotte had presented to him once they were well beyond the gate.
“She said that Fiona knew of the exact location—under the willow tree. Sure and word travels fast inside the keep, but damn, Tav, that’s a detail nae likely to be shared. Is it?” While Tavish considered this, his brow furrowed, Reid pressed on. “Have ye at any time had any suspicion that my sister has something going on with Lachlan?” Tavish’s eyes did not widen with shock over the possibility of this coupling, which only heightened Reid’s awareness. “Shite. Have ye?”
Seemingly reluctant to disclose what he did know, Tavish spoke carefully. “Couple months back, I happened upon them near the wee loch round noon time. I kent it odd—Fiona outside the wall and Lachlan absent from training that morning—but they... they were convincing. Lass said she’d lost her favorite ribbon near the loch, said she’d asked Lach to escort her, nae wanting to go alone.”
“There’s something else?”
Tavish winced, as if now seeing the error of his ways, having not questioned this further at the time. “Week or so after that, I found them in company again. That time, Lach said he’d found her walking beyond the village, said he’d scolded her guid and proper for nae having an escort.”
“Either of which might actually have been true,” Reid allowed.
“Aye,” Tavish concurred. “But then, it’s nae secret yer sister is nae keen on yer choice of bridegroom.”
“If I follow that line of thinking, you suggest Fiona is either in love with Lachlan, or she’s using him to thwart the betrothal contract.”
Tavish hesitated.
“But what has that to do with English conspirators?” Reid wondered.
Tavish shrugged, having no available idea, save that, “Mayhap it represents the depth of their desperation.”
Reid could scarcely credit it. “To involve the English?”
“We willna ken until we start asking the right questions of the right people.”
